Caged Turnabout
by Red Warrior
Summary: After spending seven years away from the courtroom, Phoenix Wright is back, but his first case is not exactly a walk in the park. Crime: cold-blooded murder. His client: Diego Armando.
1. Prologue: Law Office

**Because Diego can't be dead.**

**CAGED TURNABOUT**

**Prologue**

_It was a dark, cool April night. And everybody was asleep. Well, not exactly everybody..._

"_W-What are you going to do with that?"_

"_You'll see..."_

"_But... wait! No! Help, someo-"_

_* BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG* * CLANG*_

"_Good riddance..."_

XXXXXXX

"All right, I think you've got this right, Daddy. Just try it one more time!"

Phoenix Wright sighed and put his hands on the monochromatic keys once more. Trust his _beloved _daughter to rub it in. "Alright, Trucy, but that's the last try. I don't think the neighbors appreciate my, um... abilities."

"I don't either, but thanks for caring." Had two spikes not jutted out of a mountain of paperwork, Phoenix would have never located Apollo Justice. The young attorney was sitting at his desk, going over and signing various sheets of paper. "By the way, I'd like to know exactly _when _you stopped reading your mail. I mean, you received that letter two years ago, for all love!"

The young man began to ramble and Phoenix tuned him out, focusing on the piano once more. Five hours per week, he practiced playing the forsaken instrument, but he still couldn't get the hang of it. Even easy tunes were torture! He always fumbled with the keys, he never got the right rhythm... But Trucy insisted that he learned, so he could have a "talent" that was "different from Polly's, because, we need some diversity, Daddy!"

Phoenix didn't have the heart to tell his daughter that they didn't need diversity anymore; the old "Wright & Co. Law Office" sign was back on the front door, and Phoenix was delighted to say the least. It had been three weeks since he had passed the bar exam and gotten his badge back, to his daughter's happiness. Her daddy was defending people again!

Apollo's last client, Vera Misham, had paid him quite a lot – he wasn't sure the young woman was aware of the usual fees – so they cleaned the office up and bought another desk, for Apollo's personal use. The younger lawyer was happy to have his own working area and couldn't wait for the day he would work on his next case on that very desk.

Things were looking up. They were starting anew and the past was now just what it was: the past. His reputation now intact, Phoenix was sure clients would soon come knocking again; the thrill of the courtroom was beckoning him once more. The only difference was that his old blue suit was now a bit loose, what with all those pounds he lost over the last seven years.

With that pleasant thought in mind, Phoenix hummed and tried a few notes. In the back, Apollo was still going on and on about the unattended mail.

"Look! Another one, sent in 2023! This is a shame, you know, it could be something important!" the young man said.

"When it's really important, people tend to phone," the poker champion replied absently, rubbing at a purple spot above the fingerboard. He made a mental note never to drink grape juice near the piano again.

"Well, maybe they don't have a phone? I mean, look, this letter was sent from... er, it's a bit distorted, like water fell on it or something but... Burain? No, it's a K... I've never heard of a place called Kurain, have you Mr. Wri-"

Apollo bit back a yelp of surprise when Phoenix sprang from his seat in front of the piano and lunged at the desk, snatching the letter out of the younger man's hands. He was about to growl that this wasn't the way a boss should be acting – _when did I come to think of Mr. Wright as my boss? _- but there was something in Phoenix's eyes that shut him up.

A feral glint. An accusation. And something Apollo had yet to see the man show...

Fear.

"Did you read it?" the porcupine-headed man asked, and while his voice was calm, it held a dangerous undertone.

_He looks like Mr. Gavin with those eyes... _Apollo shook his head, thus clearing his mind from the image of his former mentor and answering Phoenix's question. "No, I haven't even opened it yet," he said quickly, longing for that hard glare to settle elsewhere.

Mercifully, Phoenix's eyes softened and his shoulders relaxed. The lazy grin that Apollo had come to think of as the man's personal signature tugged at his lips as he casually shoved the envelope in a pocket. "Good," the older attorney said, and Apollo sighed in relief. For a moment, he had thought he was done for. "I'm going to go get us some lunch. Burgers sound good?"

"Daddy, that would be great!" Trucy exclaimed, jumping up and down. "We haven't had burgers in... I can't even remember! Are you really going to get burgers, Daddy?"

"Anything for my little girl," Phoenix chuckled, and Apollo wondered how the man could switch from furious to fatherly in ten seconds. _Must be some weird case of schizophrenia... maybe I should tell Mr. Eldoon about him... _

"Apollo, while you're snooping around in my mail, keep watch over the phone, alright? If clients call, tell them I'm busy with a detective, or attending a meeting, make it sound like I'm doing something serious, okay?" Apollo's antennae-like spikes dropped and sweat rolled down the side of his face.

"Sure, Mr. Wright." _Sure, Mr. Wright, but I won't forget to add that I'm an attorney as well... because, you see, _I _would like to find some work, someday. _

Apollo watched as Phoenix ruffled Trucy's hair before departing, and her delighted grin brought a smile to his own lips. He just couldn't stay mad at his boss, especially when the glint in his daughter's eyes revealed just how big the man's heart was.

Oh, sure, his job had many, many downsides, such as doing the boring work, cleaning the office, buying coffee for his boss and Trucy without even knowing about it – and he didn't believe the whole accident scenario one bit – or having Wright's daughter give him heart attacks with the help of Mr. Hat. But he wasn't sure he would trade it for any other post; his job felt quite unique.

After all, how many lawyers had Magic Panties waved into their faces on a daily basis?

XXXXXXX

Phoenix waited until he was at last two blocks away from the office to fish the crumpled letter out of his pocket.

He stared at the blue paper for a few minutes, his free hand shoved deep inside his pocket. He usually noticed when he received one of _her _letters, however, this one had escaped his sharp eye.

_Must be because it didn't come with any Steel Samurai DVD, _the attorney thought, stroking the soft surface with the pad of his thumb.

He had never opened any of her letters. He could fool himself saying that he was far too busy to take time for something that wasn't work-related, but it wasn't true; for the past seven years, he had been having an unhealthy amount of free time. The real reason slept deep within his soul, awakened a little more with each colorful package delivered to the Agency.

He didn't want to know.

What good would it do? She was the Master of Kurain and, for the past seven years at least, he had been a shabby poker player, and a poor pianist. She had nothing to do with him, it would be better if she forgot him altogether. She probably had a life of her own, anyway.

Phoenix's hand tightened on the envelope; he didn't want to read about that. Being the Master of Kurain, she must be married already. To some guy. And, God forbid, maybe she had kids too. He didn't want to hurt more than he already was.

_But... I'd rather hurt than stay in the dark... _Phoenix's fingers twitched hesitantly around the letter. He missed her far too much for it to be bearable. For years, he had kept a straight face for Trucy's sake, but now that everything was back to normal, that things were looking up, he had no more excuses to ignore the tugging at his heart.

Without his consent, his other hand pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. He watched the little screen, his face devoid of any expression. He didn't want to be hurt.

But if he had to be hurt, he'd rather hear it from her very mouth.

Phoenix quickly found her cell number; he had never erased it. He hoped that she hadn't, as well. Pressing the call button before his brain took control over his heart again, he brought the little device to his ear and waited, leaning against a building.

He almost chuckled when he imagined the theme song of _Pink Princess _echo through a room over there in Kurain. She would jump out of her skin, knocking over the bowl of popcorn she had so cautiously balanced on her legs, fumble for the remote and press the pause button - "But Nick, Evil Magistrate was gonna win this time! I would be, like, totally disoriented if I missed something like that!" - and run across the room to snatch the cell phone off of the table. She would spend a few seconds trying to slow her breathing, and then...

_Click._

"Maya?"

XXXXXXX

Apollo leaned back in his chair with a satisfied sigh, running a hand through his damp chestnut hair. He was done sorting out Wright's mail into piles; each pile was a different sender, newest letters first. He felt pretty proud of himself.

"Wow, Polly, that's amazing!" Trucy exclaimed as she looked up from a magic book and saw the neat piles. "Congratulations!"

_At least, someone who appreciates my work! _"Yeah, I'd say we deserve a big glass of orange juice, don't you think?"

At Trucy's eager nod, Apollo made his way to the kitchen to retrieve two glasses and a bottle of orange juice from the fridge. He sat on the couch next to Trucy and filled the glasses. "Cheers, my dear associate," the young attorney toasted before downing the whole glass in a few big gulps.

Trucy giggled when Apollo put his glass down and sagged back into the couch. "How come it's so hot already? It's only April," he mumbled, dislodging a few damp strands from his sweaty forehead with a grimace.

The young magician shrugged. "It's always hot in the office, Daddy said he would fix the air conditioner soon." _Yeah, and Ema told me she wouldn't buy Snackoos again, _Apollo thought bitterly.

"Oh! We still have that old ventilator!" Trucy said, slamming her fist into her other hand as it dawned on her.

Apollo glanced over the room at the poor machinery sitting on Wright's desk; it used to be white, but years and magic practice had given it an odd, yellowish color. The blades looked like they were about to fall off, too. Was a little cool air worth the risk of having their heads chopped off? _I should stop watching those shows with Trucy... _

"Well, it can't hurt to try," Apollo said and the magician bounced over to the ventilator, checking the device over for a switch. The young man shook his head with a small smile as he reached for the orange juice again; Trucy could carry a human-sized chip of wood around and make it talk with ease, but she had major difficulties when it came to everyday devices.

He watched her, amused, as he brought the glass to his lips and took a measured sip of the cold beverage. But a tiny detail about the way the ventilator was positioned made him spit everything back out. "Trucy! Don't-"

"Ah ha, there it is!"

Wright's daughter found the switch and proudly turned the ventilator on. Before Apollo could help it, the thing whirred to life in front of his eyes... and effectively blew every single envelope off and away from his desk.

There was a horrible silence as Trucy and Apollo stared at the desk, the former in astonishment and the latter in morbid despair.

_Wow... so that's what it feels like, losing two hours of my life... _

Trucy turned to Apollo, scratching the back of her head with a sheepish smile. "Woopsie, didn't see that," she giggled nervously. She then looked at the unopened mail scattered all over the room. "Guess you have to clean up the office again, Polly."

Apollo snapped out of the trance the sight of his ruined work had thrown him into, and his brown gaze focused on Trucy. _How... how dare she! She thinks I give a damn about the damn floor? The nerve! _"You'd better run!" he roared as he launched himself from the couch and ran at her.

The girl yelped and ran away, the attorney chasing after her. She stepped on the letters but Apollo was past caring; he would get back at her this time.

After a few minutes of frantic chase through the office and the kitchen, Trucy jumped over the couch to find shelter in her room, losing her hat in the process; but Apollo didn't let her. He dove and caught her around the waist, pining her to the couch before the girl could escape.

"You're done for!" Apollo yelled as he grabbed two pillows from the couch and held them high over his head as a threat.

"It was an accident, I swear Polly!" Trucy squeaked, trying to wriggle free through a profusion of giggles. "I didn't mean it!"

"Garbage! Prepare to feel my wrath, cushion-style!"

Apollo proceeded to whack the younger girl all over with the pillows as she pleaded for freedom between bouts of laughter. The lawyer merrily wrestled with her, losing one of his plump weapons in the process and receiving blows in turn. The scattered mail didn't matter anymore; this was all about unwinding.

Another pillow appeared in Trucy's hand and Apollo protested. "Hey! You can't use magic, that's not fair!"

"In the courtroom and in war, everything is fair! Daddy told me so!" Trucy retorted, sticking her tongue out at him.

"Don't make me take away your Panties!"

_Is it just me, or did that sound extremely wrong? _

The pillow war carried on for some time, but soon ended, both of its participants overcome with exhaustion. The duo collapsed over the soft material of the couch, Trucy's head on Apollo's shoulder as they tried to catch their breath. The attorney lazily leaned his cheek down onto her hair. "I'm getting you back for this," he mumbled.

Trucy giggled and was about to say something when the phone rang. Apollo groaned and pulled himself up; his hair was in disarray and his white shirt was peeking out from under his vest, but the usually nit picky attorney made a beeline for the phone and snatched it from its cradle.

"You've reached the Wright & Co. Law Office, you made the Wright choice," Apollo said, hoping he didn't sound as dumb as he felt. The pun had been Trucy's idea of a good way to begin phone calls. "How may I help you?"

"_Hey pal, been a long time uh? You can't believe how good it felt, dialing your number after all this time! So, how does it feel to be an attorney again, pal?" _

"Errr, I'm sorry, this is not Phoenix Wright," Apollo said, sitting on the edge of his desk. "I'm Apollo Justice, Mr. Wright isn't here."

The man on the other end of the line gagged. _"What! Wright got kicked out?"_

Apollo sweat-dropped; people these days, they jumped to conclusions in less time than it took Wright to swallow a glass of grape juice. "No, he still works here, I'm his colleague. He is absent at the moment, he is... uh..." The red-wearing lawyer racked his brain for a decent excuse, looking around the office for ideas. Trucy was kneeling on the couch, making weird hand gestures and mouthing out words at him; he focused on deciphering them. "He is... having a picnic... with a client... in Chicago?"

Trucy slapped her palm over her face.

Fortunately, or astoundingly, his interlocutor was gullible enough to buy it. _"Oh, really? Dang it, just my luck... I wanted to catch up a little, and I had a case for him, too._"

At the word "case" Apollo's ears perked up. "Well, Mr. Wright is not here but I'm a capable attorney, I can take the case in his stead," he said in his best professional voice. Judging by Trucy's guffaws, he wasn't doing a very good job at it.

"_Sorry, pal, the guy wants Wright and only Wright. Can't tell you why, though." _

Apollo felt his spikes drop in disappointment. "Alright, I'll tell him you called, can you tell me your name?" The sound of the front door opening made him turn around. "Hold on, Mr. Wright just arrived, I'm putting him on."

Phoenix deposited the take out bags on the coffee table and made his way to his desk, taking the phone from Apollo after nodding his thanks. "Hello, Phoenix Wright speaking," he greeted.

"_Hey pal! How was Chicago? Was the weather good?" _

"Chicago?" Phoenix repeated with a puzzled look; he figured he had to play along when Trucy and Apollo began flailing wildly. "It was... alright, I guess. How have you been, detective Gumshoe?"

"_It's Chief Detective now, pal." _Pride was practically dripping from the receiver. "_I solved a few cases with Mr. Edgeworth and Ms. Von Karma and worked overtime quite often, but I finally got promoted. You should see my office, pal, it's almost as big as yours! And it's a good thing too, I could use the extra money, with a kid on the way and everything." _

Phoenix blinked. "A kid?"

"_Yes, Maggey is in her seventh month, I'm going to be a Dad soon! Can you believe it?"_

_I'm still recovering from the fact that you somehow managed to be promoted to Chief Detective; one impossible piece of news at a time is more than enough. _"That's... amazing, Gumshoe. So, you two got married or something?"

"_Yep, three years ago, in August. We sent you a card but you never showed up... it's no big deal, I know you had a lot pilin' up on your plate." _Gumshoe sounded sincere, but the tinge of sadness told Phoenix that his absence had been noticed.

He looked at the envelopes scattered over the floor. _How many things did I miss? Another wedding? A death? The birth of a kid? I wouldn't know... That's pathetic. _He had let everybody around him down, and had fled the hands that were reaching for him. Ignoring Gumshoe's wedding day, although unintentional, took him to fields of self-disgust he didn't even know existed.

"_Speaking about things pilin' up on your plate, I've got a case for you." _

"I'm all ears," Phoenix said, sitting down at his desk and grabbing a pen and a sheet of paper.

"_It's a murder, pal. I don't know if you've read today's paper or not, but a man was killed yesterday, at the local prison. You remember Redd White?" _

Phoenix's eyes narrowed against his consent. "How could I forget?"

Did Gumshoe really expect him to forget the face of the man who killed Mia, in this very same room? The man had been quite lucky – or unlucky, it all depends on which end of the noose you're holding. A few months after Dahlia Hawthorne's execution, the death penalty was abolished; it was officially recognized that sentencing someone to death was a risk in itself. What if the convict was, in fact, innocent? There was no going back on a procedure which ended in somebody's death.

Prisoners on death row's sentence had been changed to life imprisonment.

And those measures had been taken the morning before White's execution. Lucky bastard.

"Did he kill someone again? Well, if he thinks I'm going to defend him..."

"_No, pal, he's the one who got killed." _

That left Phoenix speechless; someone killed Redd White? In prison?

"_They suspect another inmate, the guy who shared his cell," _Gumshoe pursued, leaving no time for Phoenix to ask questions. "_He's the one who asked me to call you. Honestly, pal, everything points to him, it wouldn't surprise me if he was the murderer. But this is what you love, right? Near-impossible cases and prodigious turnabouts."_

Phoenix threw the pen on his desk and rubbed the bridge of his nose, sighing softly. "De- Chief Detective, I'm going to need a little bit more info than that. Such as... my potential client's name?"

"_Ha, he told me you'd ask for his name!" _Wright resisted the urge to tell Gumshoe that you didn't have to be a medium to know those things. If you had any kind of social life. "_And he told me to tell you... uh... crap I forgot..."_

"Tell me his name and that's it."

"_No, I'm supposed to say his name only after you've agreed to defend him." _

Phoenix smirked. "I'm not doing that, what if it's Matt Engarde who asked you to call me?"

"_You think I'm dumb, pal? It's not Engarde, just Mr. Armando!... Oh crap again..." _

Diego Armando. The name echoed in Phoenix's head; he hadn't seen the man in seven years, had even come to think he was dead. Just like Redd White, he had been sentenced to life imprisonment, for the murder of Misty Fey. Phoenix had never visited him; not once, in seven years. Because even though he had been the one to send Armando to jail, he wished things were different, like many other aspects of his life.

Then something clicked in his head; who had been _dumb _enough to put White and Armando in the same cell? Mia's murderer and her lover locked together, with Diego's thirst for revenge and nobody to hold him back? _And I always thought Gumshoe was unique... _

"_Erm, pal... I know you don't like the guy and everything, but... he asked specifically for you. Won't you at least... meet him? Or somethin'?" _Gumshoe was clearly uncomfortable; Armando had probably threatened to chug a coffee mug at him if Phoenix refused, or something similar.

But he had no reason to worry; Wright was far too curious to walk away.

"Alright, I'll meet him. I owe him that much. Which prison did you say he was in?" Phoenix quickly jotted down the address that the detective gave him and promised to have a talk with Armando the next day.

The attorney hung up, a thoughtful look on his unshaven face. Diego Armando. A ghost from the past, coming back to haunt him. He wondered whether meeting him again after all that time would be a good thing or not.

"So, do we have a case?"

Phoenix raised his eyes, meeting Apollo's chocolate, eager gaze. The boy looked as excited as Trucy when she thought of a new magic trick. Wright smirked. "Yes, I have a case. I'm meeting my client tomorrow, in the afternoon."

Apollo's spikes lowered in disillusion. "What... you mean, we won't... I won't be..."

Phoenix put his hands behind his head and leaned back on his chair, yawning. Torturing that kid was so funny. "Well, I guess that since you don't have a case yourself... you could always tag along... watch and learn a bit."

The younger attorney frowned; he opened his mouth, with the firm intent to tell his so-called boss that he was not a student anymore, but Trucy pounced on him before he could say anything. "I'm coming too! Polly and Daddy at work together, I wouldn't miss it for the world!"

Phoenix laughed softly, ruffling his daughter's hair. "That's settled then. We'll meet our client tomorrow, in the afternoon. And after that, well... I need to go to the station."

Apollo gave him a puzzled look. "You're leaving?"

"What! No, Daddy, you can't!" Trucy squeezed her fists shut and waved them around a little, barely avoiding knocking Apollo out. "Don't leave!"

"I'm not leaving, kid," Wright smiled. "There's someone I have to pick up."


	2. Chapter 1: Hopeless

**CAGED TURNABOUT**

**Chapter 1**

This, Phoenix decided, had to be some kind of punishment.

Looking at the map the officer gave him when he arrived at the prison, the attorney cringed inwardly. On the right side of the sheet, there were several numbers, each one referring to a cell. And next to the numbers, the cells' current residents.

Out of the twenty inmates, seven were here because of Phoenix. And two because of Apollo. And that was only the men's cells; Phoenix's eyes wandered over to the left side of the sheet, where the female convicts' names were written in the same fashion as the males'. Although "Ms. Tiala" had a familiar ring, he could find nobody else he knew.

His greatest relief came from the absence of Iris' name on the list. Seven years before, Iris Hawthorne had helped Diego Armando and tampered with a crime scene in order to hide clues. This was not actual murder, and though Phoenix hadn't attended Iris' second trial, he was fairly sure that she hadn't been sentenced to life imprisonment. She was probably free, even.

_At any rate, she's not here, and that's a good thing. I'm already meeting far too many people from my past today as it is. _

Phoenix cleared those thoughts from his mind and looked at the map once more; Diego's cell was number 17. Right next to the infirmary, and across from the surveillance room. _Crap... if there's a video tape involved then maybe this case really is hopeless... _

"So, are we going to look for our client, or are we going to stand here until night falls?"

Phoenix looked to his right; Apollo had his arms crossed and looked rather annoyed at his boss' lack of movement. Wright wasn't aware he had spaced out. "Every single man and woman who's locked in there has committed murder at least once," the older attorney said. "You can't simply walk in there, it's not a communal park."

Apollo sighed. "Then, pray tell, _what _are we going to do?"

"With time and experience, Mr. Justice, you'll come to learn that wherever you are, trouble will find you."

"Daddy's right, Polly! Daddy, tell him about that time you met that transvestite who thought you were-"

"Hey, pal! I thought you'd never come!"

The three members of the Wright & Co. Law Office turned around to see a tall man quickly making his way toward them in the hall. Phoenix gave Apollo a grin that clearly stated _Told you so _and waved to the detective. "Hello, Gumshoe. How have you been?"

The tall, sturdy detective hadn't changed much over the last seven years, except for the beard that was trimmed neatly. He still had that same pen precariously dangling on his left ear, and the same tiny white plaster on his cheek – which purpose was still a mystery to Phoenix. What shocked the attorney the most, though, was the trench coat: it was blue, and looked new.

The newly-promoted detective had a cheerful grin on his face. "I've been doing okay, pal. What about you?"

"I'm fine. By the way, before I forget, this is Apollo Justice, my co-worker."

"So you were the one on the phone." Gumshoe's smile widened and he shook Apollo's hand happily. "I'm Dick Gumshoe, I worked on a few cases with Mr. Wright... Wait that's not true, I was working with Mr. Edgeworth, but Mr. Wright always snooped around for clues so I ended up workin' with him too."

_That's nice, Gumshoe. Very nice. _

"And who's the lovely young lady?" the detective asked, smiling at Trucy. "Your new assistant, perhaps?"

"Not quite. This is Trucy Wright, my daughter." Phoenix wasn't surprised when Gumshoe did a double take and before he could ask questions, he added: "I adopted her when she was eight."

"Oh." Gumshoe nodded as his previous smile came back on. "Glad to meet you, little miss." Trucy bowed a little with a cheerful smile of her own. "Guess you all came to see Mr. Armando, uh?"

"That would be the purpose of this visit, yes," Phoenix nodded. "You did say he was counting on me."

"Yeah, that he is. Unfortunately, you can't see him right now, he's... unavailable."

"What?" Apollo's spikes stood on end and if looks could kill, Gumshoe would be in the same state as Redd White. "We came all this way... for nothing?"

The chief detective scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "I know, I'm sorry. It happened earlier in the morning, I wasn't here yet. He's unconscious right now, in the infirmary. Doctor's with him, seems like he got sick suddenly. But!" Gumshoe hurriedly said when Apollo growled. "But I can lead you to the crime scene, if you wanna take a look."

A strange feeling came over Phoenix; Gumshoe was usually forbidding him access to the crime scene – or trying to - and to have him offering to take them to the place where the murder occurred was just... plain odd.

"Well... I guess it won't hurt to have a look," Phoenix muttered, scratching at his chin.

XXXXXXX

"Please, tell me I'm dreaming!" Apollo cried out when their little group reached the cell in question.

The two figures that were standing in front of the bars turned around; the first one pulled a blond strand back with a smug grin and the other one almost choked on a Snackoo.

"Herr Forehead!" Klavier Gavin greeted cheerfully, his smile so bright it could light the whole corridor. "Herr Wright. And dear little Fraulein. Beautiful day for an investigation, ja?"

"Indeed it is. Good afternoon Prosecutor Gavin," Phoenix greeted back. "And good afternoon to you, Detective Skye."

Ema Skye made a vague gesture, but upon spotting her boss standing behind Phoenix, she quickly hid her pack of Snackoos in her bag. "G-Good afternoon, Mr. Gumshoe, sir!" she said, snapping into a salute.

Gumshoe casually raised a hand, but Phoenix could tell the man was full of pride. "At ease, Ms. Skye. So, are you done with the crime scene?"

"We gathered everything we needed, Herr Detective," Gavin answered, putting a hand on Ema's shoulder – which was promptly pushed away. "We are going to ask the inmates a few questions and we'll be on our way. Which makes me think..." The blond rock star pointed to the few other cells around them; they were empty. "Where are this lovely residence's tenants?"

"They're in the courtyard. Ask the guard to take the ones you want to interrogate to the visiting room."

"Danke, Herr Detective." Gavin nodded and turned to Apollo, his polite smile turning into a smug grin. "Our paths keep crossing, I see. But this time, Herr Forehead... there's no way I can lose."

Both prosecutor and detective walked away, leaving Apollo to wonder if the last sentence was a challenge, or a statement. _Why, oh why does it always have to be Gavin? _

"Boy, that's a lot of blood."

Phoenix's voice brought Apollo back on Earth, and he turned around to see that his three companions had already entered the cell. In a few strides, he caught up to them and his first look at the crime scene made him wince.

There was so much blood on the floor that you could probably paint the whole cell red, bars included. It was obvious that some effort had been made to clean some of the blood, but there was still a frighteningly large puddle around the bed in the far corner. Some of the scarlet liquid also tainted the mattress and the sheets.

Apollo forced his eyes away and took in the other aspects of the cell. There were two single beds; one in the far corner, right under a small window equipped with iron bars, and another one on his right. Both sleeping areas were parallel to the wall and pushed against it. _To gain more space I suppose. _There were small tables which were probably nightstands at the head of each bed, and a shelf above each nightstand upon which the prisoner could put the few belongings he was allowed to keep.

On the shelf next to the window, there was a framed picture of a handsome man in a red shirt dancing with a dark-haired woman, but neither looked familiar. Next to the frame were two novels, a law book – which prickled the attorney's interest – and a white mug. The other shelf held nothing but piles of magazines, and Apollo didn't feel like browsing.

"That one is Armando's," Gumshoe said, pointing to the bed under the window. The one with the bloodstains, of course. "I'm sure you already figured it out, but we found the body in the middle of the puddle of blood. White was sitting with his back against the bed, his head craned back. His body was transferred to the local morgue."

"Where was Armando when the body was found?" Phoenix asked, watching the framed picture with interest.

"He was... well, he was sleeping, pal. In his bed."

Apollo frowned. "Wait, you said Mr. White's body was leaning against the bed, he can't possibly..."

"I know it sounds crazy, pal, but the prison guard was the one who discovered the scene. He even took a picture." Gumshoe fumbled around in his pockets for a moment and fished a small piece of glossy paper out. "Here. That's how he found 'em."

Apollo and Trucy struggled to get a look at the picture over Phoenix's shoulder, since he was the one who took it from Gumshoe. The unmistakable puddle of blood was the first thing the young attorney noticed, and as previously described, a man was sitting in the middle, with his back to the bed. It looked like blood was pouring out of his skull, judging by the unrecognizable right side of his face, tainting the floor and the sheets an angry red.

The white-haired man sleeping peacefully in the very same bed was, to say the least, a surprising and morbid detail.

"Do you have the autopsy results yet?" Phoenix asked, his eyes never leaving the shot.

"Well, yes, I have them, but since I'm not technically working on this case, I can't tell you." Gumshoe guffawed at the crestfallen look on Apollo's and Trucy's faces. "Just kiddin', pals! But I used to do this all the time back when I came across Mr. Wright. Shoulda seen your faces, though."

Both the young attorney and magician smiled nervously, but Phoenix just flashed the detective a murderous side glance. "I never told you, Gumshoe, but you make the lamest jokes in the world," he said in a low, dangerous voice that had the merry laughter die on the spot. He extended a hand. "The results. Now."

Gumshoe blinked a few times, quite startled at being addressed to in such a way by the usually nice Phoenix. "Alright, pal, alright..." He opened his coat and took out a green folder, handing it over to the unshaven attorney. "This is the whole file, autopsy results are somewhere in here."

Phoenix nodded and opened the folder, leafing through it until he came across the autopsy report. He frowned. "Head trauma, with massive external bleeding from right temple. Well, I don't know what did this, but whatever it was went through his skull nicely."

Apollo shuddered at the statement and turned to Trucy, worried that she might get scared. But the girl was too busy examining the frame that was sitting on the shelf. _What is so great about that frame? Mr. Wright was looking at it as well earlier... _

"Speaking of which, has the murder weapon been found?" Justice asked, trying to be part of the conversation.

Gumshoe's face took on a sullen expression. "That's where things get complicated. The murder weapon... is this." He searched through the file himself and got a picture out.

It looked like some weird kind of lamp. Rectangular, the metallic object had three red stripes that had to be neons. More than the unusual shape of the item, the blood staining one of its sharp-looking corners was what caught Apollo's attention.

He looked at his boss. "If that blood is the victim's, then it's quite obvious that this is the murder weapon. Don't you think?"

But the hard, cold expression on Phoenix's face told him that he wasn't going to get an answer. Something seemed to be bothering the older attorney a lot. "Are we _sure _that this is the murder weapon?" Wright asked Gumshoe, as if begging him to reconsider.

The Chief Detective looked sorry, but he nodded. "They checked with the body. It fits. They say White's temple was smashed repeatedly with it, at least five or six times."

"You do realize that if White was killed with this, this case is almost hopeless, right?"

"I know, pal. I know."

Apollo was completely lost. Why was this strange object so important? "Excuse me, uh... would you mind telling me how this item is related to our case? And... _what _is it anyway?"

Phoenix and Gumshoe exchanged a knowing look – which infuriated Apollo to no end – and after a wordless decision, the porcupine-headed attorney faced the younger man. "This is a device that allows people whose sight was destroyed to see. Not quite well, since people who wear that thing can't see the color red, but it's still quite helpful."

"Okay. And why would our case be hopeless if that... device... is the murder weapon?"

"This visor was made specially for Mr. Armando."

Apollo felt like a stone was dropped into his ribcage. "W-What...?"

"He's the only one in the world who's got one. He always wears it because of an accident which left him blind, years ago. He only takes it off under very special circumstances, if ever."

Apollo didn't miss Phoenix's quick glance in the general direction of the shelf. His brown gaze followed suit and fell on the framed picture once more; something clicked in his head. The dark-haired man in the picture had to be Mr. Armando, and the woman he was dancing with was his wife, or his girlfriend. Hence the "special circumstances".

"You... seem to know a lot about our client," Apollo mumbled, feeling left out.

"Well, he was..." Phoenix hesitated, as if wondering what he should say next. "... an old family friend."

Apollo nodded; this was obviously a complicated topic, so he decided to busy himself by reading the autopsy report himself. "The victim has finger-shaped bruises on his throat and scratches on his back, in addition to the head wound."

"Detective Skye worked on a scenario with the rest of the team," Gumshoe explained. "They believe Mr. Armando pinned White to the wall above the bed and held him by the throat while he bashed his head with the visor. White was probably struggling, his back rubbed against the wall and created those scratches. It's quite believable, since there are blood drops everywhere on the bed."

Phoenix looked over at the bed again; and sure enough there were small stains of blood here and there on the mattress. But they were on the edges; the middle of the bed was white as snow, as if an object had somehow shielded the area.

Before he could point it out, Apollo spoke up. "If that's the case, unless he was completely daft, Mr. White fought back! And it's not like Mr. Armando has wounds or anything!" Apollo's triumphant smile disappeared when Gumshoe's shoulders slumped even more, replaced by a pleading expression. "Right?"

"Well... the results aren't in yet, but they found bits of skin under White's nails, and some white hair too. And Mr. Armando has scratches along his hairline... I'm sorry, pal, I shouldn't have called. He's the murderer, I tried to convince myself he wasn't, but everything points at him. You're wasting your time."

_Klavier was right, _Apollo groaned inwardly, his spikes dropping low. _There's no way we can win this case. This is as hopeless as can be..._

"What did he say?" Phoenix asked sharply.

"Wha.. Who?" Gumshoe was puzzled.

"Armando. Did he say he killed White?"

"Uh... No, he said he didn't do it. But-"

"Then, I'm not wasting my time." Phoenix closed the folder and tucked it under his arm, giving the cell a last look. "Before I investigate further, I need to have a talk with my client. Could you lead me to the infirmary?"

Gumshoe scratched the back of his head; Apollo thought that the man would be a poor witness, with those nervous tics. "I can't promise he's gonna be awake."

"It's worth a try." Phoenix walked out of the cell behind Gumshoe and turned his head back. "Trucy, come on, we'll come back later anyway."

The young magician walked over to her father. "Daddy, the woman in the picture... I'm sure I've seen her already. I could swear we have pictures of her back at the Agency. Who is she?"

Sadness. Yet another feeling Apollo had never seen in Wright.

"She was... an old family friend."


	3. Chapter 2: The Client

**CAGED TURNABOUT**

**Chapter 2**

The tag on the door held more interest for Trucy than the infirmary itself.

"Hey Polly, you saw that? "Dr. Ment"..." The young magician chuckled. "That's funny!"

The young attorney sighed. "Well, I'd rather be named after a plant, at least people wouldn't make stupid puns with my surname... Aren't I "Wright"?"

Trucy balled her fists and waved them around a bit; she reminded Apollo of a little girl throwing a tantrum. "That was mean! And you didn't even get the joke!" At his puzzled look, she sighed, as if she was talking to an idiot. "Doctor Ment? Doc Torment?"

"Oh... Oh!" Apollo chuckled, nodding to the magician. "Indeed. This sure sounds like a forthcoming name, for a doctor in a prison."

"I'll just go and pretend this is not the hundredth time people say this."

The duo yelped and whirled around, coming face to face with a man in a lab coat, standing in the doorway. He had to be at least forty-something year-old, but some gray hair inhabited his temples and his short beard already, clashing with the brown strands and giving him an older appearance. His piercing, intelligent blue eyes were glaring at Apollo and Trucy, and neither had to read the name tag on his coat to know who he was.

Dr. Ment himself, if the annoyed scowl on his features was anything to judge by.

Phoenix pushed past his speechless companions and extended a hand. "Dr. Ment? I am Phoenix Wright, attorney at law, and those two are my assistants." If he wasn't so embarrassed, Apollo would have protested. "We were told our client was put under your care this morning."

"Ah. You're here to see Armando." The doctor nodded and briefly shook hands with Phoenix. "It's about the murder, right?"

_No, we're here for his birthday, where can we put the cake? _Apollo fought the urge to slap himself silly and nodded at the same time Phoenix answered: "Yes, we have a few questions for him. Do you think he's up for it?"

Ment shoved a hand in a pocket and shrugged. "Armando is hardly ever up for anything. But if you're talking about his health, yeah, he should be in a good enough shape. Shall we?"

Phoenix nodded and followed the doctor inside the infirmary. There were a few beds, lined up against the wall, but only one was occupied by a man who had a bandage around his head. Diego was nowhere to be seen.

"Where is he?" the unshaven attorney asked politely.

"I put him alone in a room. Ever since the murder, the other inmates have been quite... unfriendly. His visor was taken away, y'know, as a piece of evidence from what I gathered. The poor devil can't see a single thing."

"Oh." Apollo remembered that Mr. Armando was blind. And being blind in the middle of a crowd of convicts was certainly the last thing anyone would wish to experience. "Did he get beat up? Is that why he's here?" the young man asked, trying to have a part in the conversation and not just stand here doing nothing. But he yapped when Trucy elbowed him sharply in the ribs. "Wooch! What? What did I say?"

"Gumshoe told us he got sick in the morning, I'd like you to be a bit more aware of things, Mr. Justice," Wright snapped, and Apollo flinched. _And this is coming from a man who pretended to play piano for seven years. Talk about a blow to my ego... _"Speaking of which... how is he recovering?"

Dr. Ment stopped right in front of a worn-out cream-colored door, and scratched at his beard.

"To be honest... I think he faked it."

Apollo's bracelet vibrated against his wrist, making him frown. He adjusted it a little, thinking that it must have slipped. "You think he faked... being sick?"

The doctor nodded. "We don't have much medical supplies here, so there's no way I can tell for sure if he is lying or not, but there's a good chance that he is faking. Forcing himself to throw up, refusing to eat or drink... His constitution is not that great to begin with, but I think he would have survived two days with minimal food and water. The symptoms he presents are just... too sudden."

Again, Apollo's bracelet gave his wrist a tug, a firm one that time.

"No offense, Doctor, but I would feel compelled to do the same if I found myself blind and alone with murderers in an enclosed space," Phoenix said calmly, adjusting the folder under his arm. "Anyway, whether or not he is faking is of no concern to us. We are here as attorneys, not nurses."

Dr. Ment's blue eyes narrowed and Apollo detected a hint of contempt in the cobalt orbs. "Well... he's in there. Take your time and don't fret; he's not going to die anytime soon." And with those strange last words, the doctors turned around and made his way across the room to a gray door that had a tag reading "Dr. Ment – Office", behind which he disappeared.

"He's not very nice," Trucy said, as if it wasn't obvious enough.

"He works in a prison, sweetie, he's not used to being nice." Phoenix grabbed the handle and gave his two young companions a glance. "Let me do the talking. I don't know how he might react."

When Apollo and Trucy nodded, Wright pushed the door open gently.

The room was small, and completely bare save for a narrow bed and a tiny window that seemed too small for anyone to push through.

Apollo's eyes automatically went to the human shape on the bed, expecting to see the handsome man from the picture; the mane of pure white hair made him blink, however, and so did the thin scar stretching from one tanned cheek to the other. Their client was spread out on his back, the covers drawn up to his waist and his arms on either side of his body, with his eyes closed. Although he was unmoving, the scowl on his features and his large hands balled into fists gave the man a strong presence, a character.

There was no sound, no noise, as if the world outside had no influence in here, and time was a mere concept. The gloomy and quiet atmosphere made it look like they were visiting a dying man, and it made Apollo uneasy.

"He looks like he's sleeping, maybe we should come back later," he whispered for fear that he might disturb the convict.

"What makes you think he is sleeping?" the older attorney countered, not bothering to lower his voice.

_Oh, I don't know, maybe because his eyes are closed? What kind of lawyer are you? _

"You think because his eyes aren't open, he is sleeping?" Phoenix said as if he had read Apollo's thoughts, and the comment made the shorter man's eyes widen. "Whether they are open or not makes no difference to him, don't you remember?"

"Sharp as ever, Trite... sharp as ever..."

The deep voice was quickly followed by a chuckle, elevating from the bed. Armando's eyes opened slowly, focused on the ceiling, exposing their milky depths to the three other persons in the room. "I thought you'd be alone," the bedridden man spoke again, his voice soft as velvet, but thick as oil.

"And I thought you were dead. Does that make us even?"

The weak amused smile was wiped off Armando's face, and his eyes shifted aside, obviously aiming for his visitors. He "stared" at them thoughtfully for a few seconds, and Apollo felt sweat roll down his back. _I feel like he can see right through my soul... Who is that man... _

"You've changed," he stated at least.

Phoenix nodded and stepped closer, as if he was just given permission to enter Armando's personal bubble. "Well, I can't say you've stayed the same," he said, his tone a tad softer, as he grabbed a chair and sat on it. "You've got some gray hair."

"Ha...!" Armando's shiny teeth came back into sight when his lips stretched into a small, but genuine smile. "You haven't lost your sense of humor along the way."

A smirk graced Phoenix's lips. "And I'm glad I didn't." After a little while, his face turned serious again and he deposited the green folder on the bed, by Armando's legs. "But I didn't come here to share jokes over a cup of tea. I was led to believe you required my help."

The white-haired man's features lost some, if not all of its entertainment. He nodded and sat up carefully, settling his back against the wall behind him. "There are few things that I really can't stand," he began, folding his hands in his lap. "Hypocrites, cold coffee, liars... and injustice."

Apollo couldn't help but think that coffee had nothing to do there, but he humored Phoenix and stayed quiet.

"So... you didn't kill him?"

"I only accept what I can understand. I committed murder eight years ago and was sentenced to life imprisonment for it, that, I can understand, and I have no problem with it. But this..." Armando sighed and thought for a while. "I went to sleep earlier that night, I was unusually tired. As soon as my head hit the pillow, I was asleep. I only woke up the following morning and someone informed me that I was accused of murdering White. Then, they took away my visor and left me in the dark about everything, both literally and metaphorically."

Phoenix nodded and fished a blank sheet of paper from the folder to scribble down things. Apollo tried to read it but the notes were just words thrown haphazardly that he had trouble deciphering, so he gave up and went back to studying Mr. Armando's behavior. The man hadn't sounded like he was scared of any repercussion, he just sounded... bothered. Annoyed, maybe. As if he didn't care about anything else than...

_The truth... _

"You don't remember anything, then?" the young attorney blurted out, forgetting for a moment that Phoenix had asked him to stay quiet – and the glare he earned for his blunt move made him wince, but he held his ground.

Armando smirked. "Boy, what did I say? I was asleep the whole time."

"Then... How can they say you are the murderer?"

"Let's see, uh..." Armando held his hand out and made a show of counting on his fingers. "I was his only cell mate, I was locked up with him, my visor was the murder weapon... did I mention I was his only cell mate?"

Apollo sighed. "Okay, okay, I get the point."

"Moreover... it's common knowledge that before you start asking questions, you must introduce yourself properly, unless someone already did it for you." That jab was directed at Phoenix, but the lawyer didn't look like he cared.

Sweat rolled down Apollo's back and he gulped. "I-I'm Apollo Justice, attorney."

Their client nodded and extended a tanned hand, which back was covered in scars from too many IV. "Diego Armando. Full-time convict." Apollo shook the offered hand cautiously. "Do you drink coffee?"

"If I...? Uh, I... I guess but..."

"Mr. Armando."

Apollo, Armando and even Phoenix were startled by Trucy's soft voice. She sounded sad, and was fidgeting with the edge of her blue cloak. "Who is... the woman on the picture, in your cell?" she asked quietly.

"The... oh." Armando smiled weakly, his gaze falling onto his sheets. "She is... the one I love. Why?"

"I've already seen pictures of her, back in Daddy's office. I was wondering if, maybe... you were one of Daddy's friends?"

There was a puzzled look on the prisoner's face. "Who is your father?"

"I forgot to mention it," Phoenix said before Trucy could respond, "but Trucy is my daughter."

"Your daughter?" A playful smirk settled on their client's lips. "Well done, Trite. Never thought you had it in you." Phoenix sighed and didn't even try to say Trucy was adopted; this would sure result in comments about how he was unable to convince a girl to stay with him long enough to have a child. "I wouldn't say your Daddy and I are "friends", kitten, we are... acquaintances."

"Oh... it's nice, I guess!" she chirped; she didn't understand the word quite well but she figured that meant they knew each other. "Daddy needs friends!"

"Er, hello?" Apollo said nervously, tugging at his collar. "I know you have a lot of lost time to make up for, but please could we stick to the case? Visiting hours will be over soon..." _And when night falls, I want to be as far away from here as possible... _

He expected Wright to retort something, but to his surprise, the older attorney nodded. "You are right, Apollo. And once we are done here, I have to go to the station."

"I can't see what else you're expecting of me," Armando said. "I already told you everything I know. When I went to bed he was alive, when I woke up he was dead. Whatever happened that night... I have no idea."

Phoenix leafed through his file. "It is mentioned in the autopsy results that there were marks of strangulation – the exact shape of a left hand, to be precise – on the victim's throat, and scratches on his back, indicating a struggle."

Armando shrugged. "Maybe he fought with some other guy. Happens more often than not, in here."

"They were tested and found to have stopped bleeding before they should have; this means the victim died while getting those scratches. Same goes for the bruising. Also... they found bits of your skin, and some of your hair, under his fingernails. And if those marks on your temple and forehead are not nail tracks, then I'll gladly give up on my badge."

The white-haired man blinked, speechless, before bringing a hand to his hairline to feel the scratches. "I... I never knew," he muttered. "They didn't tell me anything... And I couldn't see..."

"So I take it you didn't fight with him? Not even the smallest tussle, which could explain his injuries and yours?"

"How could I?" A dry chuckle escaped from his throat. "That man was even weaker than I am. Every time I spoke, he flinched. Every time I walked in a room, he would exit it. He never met my eyes. To this day, I still don't understand why he was so scared of me, but I assure you that I would never pick a fight with someone like him. That's one of my rules."

Phoenix had his own opinion about that matter, but the magatama tucked inside his pocket hadn't reacted. Diego was telling the truth. He knew that the road he was going to take was full of dangers, but he had to press the scarred man a bit more. "You would never harm, let alone kill someone like him... even in revenge?" he asked cautiously.

Armando had to react somehow to this question; Redd White killed Mia. For someone who had a strong fondness for revenge, this was the perfect excuse. But to his utter bewilderment, Diego only sighed.

"In here, we are all murderers, Wright... He did no worse than I..."

And once more, the magatama stayed still.


	4. Chapter 3: Together Again

**CAGED TURNABOUT**

**Chapter 3**

"I don't think he was lying," Apollo said as Phoenix drove to the station. "I mean... my bracelet didn't react a single time."

"Neither did my magatama," his boss nodded, stopping at a red light. "Either he was telling the truth, or he hides his lies with the utmost efficiency. I wouldn't put it past him, too." He adjusted his seatbelt for the tenth time since they had left the prison; Gumshoe had gladly loaned them his car for their trip to the station, but Phoenix wasn't sure accepting the offer had been such a good decision. That thing was making far too much noise, and going far too slowly to be a real car. _Same old, same old... _

They would have to come back to the prison the following day for a more thorough inspection of the crime scene. If Armando had told them the truth, then a lot of things didn't fit, and Phoenix needed some supplies to inspect the cell in depth – he was running out of luminol, since he had given Ema Skye his last spray.

Armando told them about the evening leading up to the murder, and the morning that followed it. But Dr. Ment had soon ushered the threesome out, claiming that visiting hours were over and that his patient needed his rest. In spite of Diego's protests stating that he had been sleeping for hours, they eventually departed with a promise to come back the next day for more details.

"Seeing as lies were never Diego Armando's forte, it's safe to assume that he is telling the truth. And it makes it all the more complicated."

The light turned green and Phoenix nudged the abused engine forward once more. It was a wonder the thing was still working.

"So... I suggest we check the murder weapon for prints, and the crime scene for blood remains and clues," Apollo said. "Then we should interrogate the doctor and the guards. Maybe they have keys to open the cells, in which case one could have been stolen and Mr. Armando wouldn't be the only suspect. And then, we could interrogate other inmates, just in case they noticed something unusual."

Phoenix nodded. "Apollo... you are getting pretty good at this," he commented. "It won't be long until you become a real, fine attorney."

Apollo blushed a little and scratched the back of his head, when Trucy bounced from the backseat to wrap her arms around his neck. "Yes, Polly, one day you'll be as good as Daddy!" she promised, dropping a kiss on his head.

"Hey! Don't mess with my hair!"

"Don't be mean, I was trying to do something nice to congratulate you! Oh, I get it... you want Mr. Hat to do it for me, don't you?"

"_No!_" At Trucy's hurt look, Apollo's tone turned from horrified to nervous. "I mean, not _now_... he wouldn't fit in the car... I wouldn't want him to get hurt..."

Trucy put a finger on her chin and looked up at the sky, as she often did when she was thinking about something. "You are right, Polly!" she finally said with a bright smile. "You are so clever!"

Phoenix chuckled at Apollo's relieved sigh; insulting Mr. Hat was the surest and fastest way to get Trucy sad and/or angry. He was glad the younger man had enough common sense to stay on his daughter's good side.

When the station came into sight, though, his mind was plagued by less amusing thoughts. He still wasn't sure why he was doing this; it had sounded quite appealing over the phone, but now that he was minutes away from seeing her again, his stomach was tightening. He wasn't the same as seven years ago, he knew this, but what if she expected him to be waiting in a sparkling blue suit, his hair perfectly gelled into place, with a couple of burgers?

He looked down critically at his plain black shirt, simple denim and worn-out sneakers. A quick glance into the rear-view mirror told him that no, he didn't shave in the morning, and yes, his hair had seen better days. _Will she even recognize me? And... will I recognize her? _

Seven years was a long time, after all.

Phoenix mindlessly drove into the parking lot and chose a spot not very far from the station. He turned the engine off and stared thoughtfully off into space; was the whole ordeal really a good idea? She must have moved on with her life, what with her responsibilities as Master of Kurain and everything. What if she didn't like the fact that things changed? What if she couldn't accept it, accept him? _Then again, she sent all those letters... relentlessly... I'd be __the dumbest jerk if I threw everything away now. _

"I'm going to wait on the platform," he informed his two passengers as he stuffed the keys in a pocket and opened his door. "Keep watch over the car."

"Can't you lock it?" Apollo asked. The idea of being stuck in a car with a possible appearance of Mr. Hat wasn't very appealing.

"If Gumshoe could lock his car, don't you think it wouldn't get stolen twice a month?"

"Point taken."

Phoenix nodded and closed the door, shoving his hands in his pockets as he walked to the station. Maybe he should think of a small speech, just something to tell her when she would be in front of him. He didn't want to look like an idiot, but he was not skilled in that field. Chatting with Maya over the phone had been easy and nice, but he didn't know how he would react to having her standing before him.

Those preoccupations swirled around in his mind as he waited on the platform, leaning back against a wall. When he decided that he should select things he wanted to tell her, there was a loud whistle, indicating that a train was coming. Phoenix's eyes raised and looked for the arrivals board on a nearby wall, anticipation knotting his insides.

That train was from Kurain.

Unconsciously, Phoenix rubbed away the wrinkles on his shirt and ran his fingers through his hair in a feeble attempt to comb them. He adjusted his belt and made sure his pants were not riding low on his hips, as they tended to do when he didn't tie his belt tight enough. There was nothing he could do about his stubble, however, but he decided that if Maya asked questions about it, he would just pretend he kept it on purpose.

His breathing shortened when the train finally pulled in the station and passengers started disembarking. He wanted to run away, as fast as his long legs could carry him, but at the same time he couldn't help but look around eagerly for long dark hair tied in a bun.

Phoenix's heart jumped up his throat when his peripheral vision caught sight of a small figure with ebony hair zooming in his direction; his mind blank, he considered turning around but stayed put, not really knowing how he should greet her and deciding to leave that up to her, even though he felt like an awful coward.

When a few seconds ticked by and nothing happened, the attorney risked a glance. The girl, a perfect stranger, had thrown herself in a tall, red-haired man's embrace, and both young people were kissing and laughing.

Relief flooded half of Phoenix's heart, while disappointment tore a chunk out of the other half. It wasn't her; good. He wasn't fully prepared yet. _Though, if she greets me like that... I'm not sure I'd complain. _A sad smile stretched his lips, both in mock amusement and self-disgust. Sure, what he had felt for the young nineteen year-old woman had gone a little beyond friendship, he was past denying it. But he had spent seven years ignoring her altogether... he had no right to expect so much as a peck from her.

And still... his heart was dying for it.

"Mr. Nick?"

Phoenix felt like all the air that filled his lungs was snatched from him in a second. Willing his face to remain somewhat normal, he turned around slowly, fearing but at the same time yearning for whatever was going to happen next.

The girl couldn't have been older than sixteen. She had light brown hair that reached past her shoulders, and those familiar purple robes that had haunted Phoenix's dreams for months. Her slender hands were clutching a bag in front of her, and she was fidgeting nervously; the look she was giving him was hesitant and uncertain, as if she was wondering if she was talking to the good person. Fortunately for her, the magatama around her neck and the pretzel-shaped bun atop her head gave her away.

"Pearls?" Phoenix asked, tilting his head.

A smile blossomed on her face and she dropped her bag, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him for all she was worth. "Oh, Mr. Nick! It's been so long!"

"Don't remind me!" Phoenix laughed and hugged her back, holding her adult body to his sturdier frame. He pulled back to look at her with a genuine smile. "You've grown so much! You are a beautiful young woman now, Pearls!"

Maya's cousin blushed, pressing her hands to her cheeks – a familiar gesture she hadn't lost, so it appeared. "You think so? Awww, Mr. Nick! You... you still are quite handsome yourself!"

_Nice try, kiddo... _

Phoenix smiled and made small talk from a few minutes, but he knew there was no delaying the issue any longer. "Um, Pearl... you came all alone?"

"Oh! Of course not! Mystic Maya was just getting her luggage and she told me to look for you!" the young one said cheerfully. "She wouldn't have missed this trip for the world! Do you know what she told Mystic Muriel just yesterday?"

Whatever his former assistant had told that Muriel woman, whom he had never heard of, was put aside as he spotted the Master of Kurain herself, struggling to push through the crowd of people without hurting anyone or losing her suitcase.

Although her dark red robes were somewhat new, the neat bun atop her head and the magatama around her neck were familiar. She had changed, there was no denying that; she looked thinner, more serious, and altogether less... alive. Were those worry lines on her usually relaxed forehead? Was that really a frown on those features that used to be so cheerful all the time?

She had changed... but she was still Maya Fey.

She was throwing glances around, looking for them maybe. His heart warmed at the thought, and before he could help it, he was raising a hand and waving at her to get her attention. Her next reaction sent butterflies fluttering around in his stomach, for her eyes lit up and she smiled happily, waving back and making her way over to him. _Why does she have such a grasp on me? It's been seven years... and it's still the same. _

Soon, too soon, Maya was standing in front of him, and all of his other thoughts – Armando, the case, everything – were swept from his mind.

"Hi, Phoenix!"

His own name came as a slap. As far as he could remember, she had always called him "Nick"... _Now, there's no doubt: she has changed. _But he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth: she was here, she was smiling, and she was talking to him.

"Hi, Maya," he answered a bit too late to be entirely normal, shoving his right hand in his pocket to hide his nervous fidgeting. _Quick, quick, say something else... _"How was your trip?"

"Oh, it was nice... I wouldn't know, actually, I slept almost all the way. I was lucky Pearly woke me up in time." Maya giggled, but under the cheerful act Phoenix had no trouble detecting hints of hesitation. _When did I become so skilled at reading people? Apollo is rubbing off on me... _

Thinking of the young attorney reminded him that he had two young people waiting in a wrecked car just outside in the parking lot. "Come on, let's go to the office, I'll make tea and we can talk about whatever happen in Kurain those past seven years," Phoenix said with a small smile, grabbing the suitcase Maya had deposited next to her feet and swinging Pearl's bag on his shoulder.

The walk back to the car was remotely silent, at least for Phoenix and Maya. Pearl, on the other hand, couldn't stop babbling about how nice it was to finally visit town once more, and how she was happy to go back to the law office again, and oh, was it a puppet show right here in the parking lot?

Phoenix groaned upon spotting the unmistakable blue hat dancing around the faded red car. _I had a feeling this would happen... _

"Isn't that... Mr. Gumshoe's car?" Maya asked, blinking.

"Yup," the shabby attorney nodded, putting the luggage down. "The one and only. He lent it to me so I could pick you up."

"Then... why is that young man running around it, and why is that giant... puppet thing following him?"

_Why can't anything, not even first meetings, be normal around here?_

* * *

After Mr. Hat was safely tucked back somewhere under Trucy's cloak – despite her firm but gentle refusal to reveal the trick to the Kurain girls – and once Apollo was assured that the oversized toy and his scissors were definitely gone and his hair was safe, Phoenix introduced the two spirit mediums to his small family.

Polite smiles were exchanged, as well as furious slaps from Pearl until Phoenix told her that he had only adopted Trucy, that he was no "skirt chaser". The altercation, although painful – those slaps were more powerful that a nine year-old's – reminded him of better times, and he smiled under the blows.

The drive back to the office was cheerful, courtesy of Trucy Wright. The young magician wanted to know everything about Kurain, and wanted her two new friends to know everything about the things they had missed on those past years.

Phoenix couldn't blame his daughter; she was almost as old as Pearl, and he could feel between the girls the beginning of a strong, if not immediate friendship. But still he wished he could have talked to Maya alone about those lost years. And find out just where they stood.

By the time Trucy began to talk about the first day she met Apollo, they had reached the office – and a very distraught Gumshoe was standing in front of it.

Phoenix frowned and parked on the side, stopping the engine. "Trucy, Apollo, please help Maya and Pearl with their bags," he instructed softly, his eyes set on the detective. Without waiting for an answer, he opened his door and stepped out of the car, marching over to the older man. "You didn't have to come and fetch your car, you know, I would have brought it back to the station tomorrow," Phoenix said.

Gumshoe scratched the back of his neck. "No, pal, I'm not here 'bout the car... I came here as soon as I was told... I'm not sure this is the right moment, since you must have better things to do but..."

"Spit it out, detective, I don't exactly have all night," Phoenix sighed.

"It's Mr. Armando, pal. He... he tried to kill himself."


	5. Chapter 4: Nick

**Update, at long last! And this chapter is shorter than the others... I've been busy... **

**CAGED TURNABOUT**

**Chapter 4**

"It happened about one hour after you left for the station," Gumshoe explained a while later, seated on the office's bright red couch with a glass of water in his hand and a sullen look on his face. "We don't quite know how he managed it, but the doc said he downed an entire bottle of pills, or something like that. Fortunately, Mr. Armando's stomach couldn't take it and he threw up everything, so the doc was able to stabilize him."

There was a deep, thoughtful look on Maya's face. Phoenix understood how confused she was feeling – he had hardly told her about his current case, after all, and hadn't planned to until a bit later – and being informed that Diego Armando, a man she was very fond of, was accused of murder again and had just attempted suicide in a row wasn't helping things. He made a mental note to tell her the details later, but there were more pressing matters at hand.

"What makes the doctor so sure about the pills?" he asked.

"He found an empty vial on the nightstand; he recognized it as the one containing Mr. Armando's meds."

Phoenix put his head in his hands and sighed, massaging his temples. That was nonsense. Suicide would have been an option for Diego when he first committed murder, the betrayal of his lover's mother too much for him to bear, but now? This was ridiculous. "Why the hell would he try to kill himself?" he muttered, more to himself than to the others.

But Apollo answered anyway. "Maybe he is the murderer, and he realized he wasn't going to be proven innocent, so instead of lengthening his stay in prison, he chose to end everything," the younger one said, shrugging.

He recoiled, though, when his older fellow shot him a murderous glare. "First," he growled, "Diego Armando would never, ever consider suicide as an option. He won't take the easy way out, I know it seems weird but he intents to make himself pay for everything he did. Two: lengthen his stay? He's already serving a life sentence, for heaven's sake."

Apollo's spikes dropped sheepishly. "Oh..."

"And three... Diego is not the murderer."

"What makes you think that? We haven't even run a proper inspection of the crime scene, such a verdict is a bit too premature for my-"

"Diego is _not _the murderer," Phoenix repeated sharply, as if talking to a stubborn child, "because he said he wasn't. Your bracelet didn't react, you said so yourself, this means he is telling the truth. And an attorney always has to believe in his client."

Apollo frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. "Is that one of the rules you go by? Or does it only apply when you're dealing with clients you personally know?"

"Watch your tongue, Apollo, you're treading on ice..."

True, an attorney had to believe his client so that the case actually got somewhere. Of course, many clients lied, it wasn't unheard of and Phoenix could understand what was leading Apollo to believe Armando wasn't being truthful, even though neither bracelet or magatama was indicating it.

But he couldn't take the tortured look on Maya's face anymore.

"I'm treading on ice? Why, can't you accept the fact that maybe, just maybe that guy murdered someone again? Let's face it: he was alone in the cell with the victim, he was found with the victim's blood all over him, and don't get me started on the murder weapon! We have to remain objective! Just because he is an "old family friend" doesn't give you the right to-"

"_Enough!_"

The roar shocked Apollo into silence.

It was easy to mistake Phoenix Wright for Furio Tigre at that moment, with only the orange suit missing from the picture. His death glare and angry snarl were enough to make Maya feel grateful Trucy and Pearl had disappeared into the young magician's bedroom some time earlier.

Some part of Phoenix felt bad about lashing out at Apollo in such a way, but it was outweighed by the part that was yelling at him to tear the young man apart so he would stop speaking without thinking and doing emotional harm to Maya. "I thought you had enough sense to refrain from voicing your opinion when it's not needed, but it looks like I was wrong," he snapped, standing up from his chair. "Now, why don't you call it a night? I require nothing more from you today."

Apollo blinked, the sharp edge in his boss' voice throwing him off guard and keeping him from saying anything smarter than: "But... uh... the case..."

"I think I established yesterday something along the lines of "this case is mine." Now, should you choose to head back home, I wouldn't stop you."

Justice stared at Wright open mouthed, his brain clearly having trouble registering that he had just been dismissed. When he did realize, though, his jaw snapped close and he grabbed his coat from the rack, leaving the office in a few angry strides without so much as a "goodnight".

An uncomfortable silence settled in the room; Gumshoe awkwardly sipped at his glass while Maya shifted her weight on her seat. Phoenix racked a hand through his hair with a heavy sigh. The headache that was slowly taking over his skull was an indication that sleep would be most grateful. _I have many things to sleep on..._

"I'll be over at the prison tomorrow, first thing in the morning. Here," the young attorney said as he handed over Gumshoe's car keys to their owner, "it's getting late and I wouldn't want to keep you from getting back to your family. Thank you for your time, Detective."

After a few polite words with Maya and a promise to be at the prison in the morning, Gumshoe exited the office, leaving the two long lost friends alone with one another.

"I, uh... I'm going to tell the girls to keep it down, if they're going to sleep in the same room they have to be a little quieter," Phoenix said quickly, before silence could settle again. "You can have my room, I'll take the couch."

"Could we... talk a little before going to bed?" Maya asked quietly, almost politely. A far cry from the bubbly girl she used to be.

"Sure," Phoenix found himself muttering before he thought.

* * *

Now, as he stood in front of his own bedroom's door, Phoenix wished he had chosen a better answer.

He knew fairly well what she wanted to talk about; or at least, he thought he knew. And although he also knew he couldn't put it off forever, it didn't make him any less uneasy.

_You came this far... there's no going back now. _

With a deep breath, he pushed the door open.

Maya was sitting on the edge of his medium-sized bed. He had half-expected her to wear Pink Princess nightclothes, or Steel Samurai pajamas, so the dull gray nightgown came as a surprise. _She's older, _he reminded himself. _She's older... why does it bother me so?... _

He closed the door and she offered him a small smile; how in hell did she expect him to be an adult about it if she kept throwing him such smiles?

With no other choice left, Phoenix sat down on the bed next to his former assistant, keeping a safe distance between them, more for his sake than hers. He began racking his brain for a way to start a conversation he wasn't sure he was going to like, when she beat him to it.

"I... missed this place," Maya said softly, a fleeting smile on her lips. "It's not the same as seven years ago, but... so many memories are coming back to me... You know, even though this is where Mia was killed, I think this office witnessed the happiest hours of my life."

"Really?" Phoenix said, fidgeting a bit with the edge of the comforter. He was tempted to say the same, but unfortunately, that would be lying. The office held a good share of unpleasant, and even downright awful memories for him, almost outweighing their past burger parties and hearty laughs. Of course, he hoped things were going to take a turn for the better, now that he was an attorney again.

His lack of enthusiasm was not lost on Maya, who looked down at her feet. "I guess it wasn't very easy for you... these past few years... you could have called, I would have come over..."

Phoenix sighed; there was no avoiding it, he knew. Ever since she learnt seven years ago that he lost his badge – damn those newspapers, do they have to sell it even in Kurain? - he had been telling her that everything was okay, that he was getting by, that she didn't need to worry. However, now that she had witnessed how messed up the office and its owner were, she could easily figure out that he had been lying to her for seven years.

"There's no need to talk about that, everything is back to normal now," he told her.

"So, you're admitting that those last seven or eight years were _not _what can be called normal... we're making progress."

Phoenix bit his tongue and chose to stare at his feet. _Cornered... _"I... didn't want to worry you. You had much on your plate already, what with Kurain and everything."

"Did you think you could keep it hidden forever? Phoenix, please... Such things aren't meant to be kept a secret. I could have helped you."

"How so?" the attorney asked with the smallest amount of bite. "You were just a girl, Maya, those problems I encountered were none of your concern. You had your own life to lead, I would have only succeeded in slowing you down."

The Master of Kurain blinked, astonished. "_Slowing me down? _I can't believe you think helping out a friend, my best friend, would _slow me down_! _I _have been slowing your down for years, while you were working on your cases."

"This is different," Phoenix sighed, trying to keep it down so the girls that were probably watching a movie in the room next to them wouldn't hear their argument, "and false, don't deny it. You helped me countless times."

"The things I hear..." Maya shook her head, her eyes on her bare, slender feet. "I have been nothing but a burden to you, all along. I am the one who slowed you down, always dragging you to places you didn't want to go, making you do things that were ridiculous and useless. You could have offered me a chance to prove that I've changed, Phoenix, you could have let me-"

"Please, don't call me that."

Maya's beautiful and quizzical gaze left her toes to meet her former boss'. "Don't call you what?"

"Phoenix. Don't call me that."

"Isn't that supposed to be your name?"

"You know fairly well what I mean." When her stare didn't falter, Phoenix understood that she was determined to prove that she had matured, and would use his given name from then on. Which didn't settle well with the attorney. "Please, Maya."

Her gaze hardened even more, only to fall apart seconds later under Phoenix's persistent soft pleading eyes. She scooted closer and her arms came to wrap themselves around the dark-haired attorney's shoulders, while her chin came to rest upon his chest. "I missed you, Nick," she whispered into his black shirt, and her voice sounded like it was about to break.

Phoenix wrapped his own arms around her waist and he hugged her close. "I missed you too, Maya," he confessed, his stubble-covered chin coming to rest on her hair. When he felt her smaller frame begin to shake, he held her closer, and allowed her to release seven years' worth of tears against his chest.

Discreetly, the two pairs of eyes that were spying from the half-opened door disappeared. This was not the happy ending they had thought the late evening would bring.


End file.
